Too Hard to Pinpoint
by LollyMc
Summary: Where Eames finds it hard to put his finger on just how he feels about Arthur and Cobb witnesses something he reall wishes he hadn't. Short, fluffy, oneshot prompt-inspired eames/arthur goodness :D read and review per-lease xxx


Too Hard to Pinpoint

**Boom! I'm on fire today, rattling out the fics ;) **

**Cutesy little fill, inspired by the prompt http: / / i56. tinypic. com / **

**I hope that link worked :( Just remove the gaps. If you have time, please leave me a review :D xx  
**

"Hey Arthur!" Eames badgered the point man, who was trying to get some very important research done. It wasn't only the petulant, persistent tone of Eames' voice that was annoying him, it was the fact his elbows were dangerously close to coming into contact with the perfectly arranged folders on Arthur's desk.

"What?" He snapped, wishing Saito or Cobb would come and give the forger a pointless errand to occupy his time so he wasn't hanging around. It put Arthur at odds, made him feel uncomfortable.

"You know that...weird kind of fuzzy feeling that you get when you're about to complete a whole massive block in Tetris?"

Arthur slammed his laptop shut, resigning himself to the fact that he wasn't going to get any work done while Eames was around and glared at the forger who was now playing with his friend's spare set of cufflinks, spreading them everywhere.

"Eames if you don't get to the fucking point in about ten seconds I'm going to have to take you into Cobb's dreams and set Mal on you."

Eames pouted and flicked a balled up post-it note at his friend, while Arthur ground his teeth and resisted the urge to grab him by the collar and punch him...or gag him. _Anything_ to shut him up.

"Well you know that _feeling_, when you're nearly about to lose cos the screen is filling up, then you get that perfect block, the one you've been waiting for and BOOOM. You're gonna get a Tetris. And you have that feeling. You..."

Eames faltered, blushing and Arthur quirked an eyebrow that was so perfectly sculpted the whole team teased him about how they looked plucked. Only one person knew the embarrassing truth of that joke and that person had been sworn to secrecy on pain of death by castration. It was an all too real threat where Arthur's pride was concerned.

"You talk such shit Eames, you really do."

Eames went even redder, hanging his head but still smiling. If he didn't smile he might cry. He'd thought this explanation, this stupid metaphor that seemed so perfect would get through to the stuck-up ass.

They'd shared so much, been together so often that he'd become almost accustomed to the tingling sensation Arthur gave him.

Then a week or so back he'd walked in on Arthur only in his boxers (plucking his eyebrows) and the feeling (and many snorts of laughter) had exploded from him.

If Arthur didn't feel it too...and didn't get what Eames was trying to say then there really was no hope.

Eames finally looked up, expression composed into a mocking laugh; ready to tease Arthur for going along with such a blatant ruse, to find that their faces were only inches apart.

Arthur's lips were pursed, his forehead crinkled and he looked like he was having a massive internal conflict. He leaned a little closer until they could feel each other's shallow breathing on their lips. It was like electricity, coursing its ways through their bloodstreams.

"Do you understand what I mean now?" Eames whispered, hardly daring to break the spell. He had his eyes closed, unable to look at his friend, scared of what he might find.

"Eames?"

Eames hummed in response, breathing getting faster as he felt Arthur put a hand on the side of his face, pulling him closer so they were a hair's breadth apart.

"Shut up," Arthur murmured, pressing his lips against Eames and feeling his whole body light up.

The fact they were rudely interrupted by Cobb, who squinted in horror and then swiftly fled, was noticed by neither.

When they finally broke apart Arthur smiled and in the most affectionate gesture Eames' had ever seen, brushed a strand of hair out of the forger's eyes.

"I kind of get what you mean now," he said before drawing Eames in again for what would be the second of many perfect kisses.


End file.
